The Medieval Murderers - The Tainted Relic

‘I do not think he believed us when we said we were taking it to the Benedictines for safe-keeping,’ added Urban. ‘Personally, I think he intended to sell it and keep the profit for himself. You can tell from his expensive habit that he was a worldly sort of man.’

‘Where were you when he died?’ asked Michael, turning to more practical matters. ‘And where was Seton?’

‘We were in our sleeping chamber on the floor above-my old wound was aching, and Urban was reading to me while I rested,’ replied Andrew. ‘Then we heard a hissing sound, followed by a thump. We came to investigate, but we were not surprised to find Witney dead. He had touched the relic, so it was only a matter of time before Barzak’s curse claimed him.’

‘He died from a lack of timely help,’ countered Bartholomew tartly. ‘If he had been pulled from the chimney immediately, he would not have choked.’

‘Then Seton should have done it,’ said Urban. ‘He was here first. When we arrived, he was standing over Witney’s body like a crow over carrion. Then he accused us of killing him, when it was God.’

‘God,’ mused Bartholomew. ‘It is astonishing how often He is blamed for things men have done.’

Andrew ignored him, and turned to Michael, who represented a more sympathetic ear. ‘I promise to do all I can to help with your investigation, Brother, although you will find no earthly cause for Witney’s death. I will stay three days, but then I must go, or you will be adding more names to the list of those whom the relic has claimed.’

‘The Carmelite and his novice are lying,’ said Seton angrily, as he paced back and forth in the chamber he had shared with his Franciscan comrade. ‘Witney did have an interest in relics, but it was an academic fascination-he is one of our order’s leading proponents in the Holy Blood debate, so of course his curiosity was piqued when they claimed to possess such an object. But he would never have tried to steal one. Their story is preposterous.’

‘So what do you think happened to him?’ asked Michael.

Seton sighed. ‘It is obvious. Urban and Andrew killed him, and now they have invented this outrageous tale about ancient curses to cover their tracks. You are an intelligent man, Brother. Surely you are not taken in by this nonsense?’

‘I shall reserve judgement until I have all the facts. Is that why Witney was here? To pick fine Cambridge minds about the Holy Blood polemic?’

Seton sneered. ‘Hardly! There are none worth picking-on Holy Blood or anything else. Our visit has been a sad disappointment so far.’

Michael’s expression was cold. He disliked outsiders denigrating his colleagues, although he did it himself regularly. ‘Why are you here? To study what, exactly?’

‘Angels-although I do not see what that has to do with my colleague’s murder.’

‘Angels,’ mused Bartholomew thoughtfully. ‘Brother Tomas of Pécs is here to investigate angels.’

‘ He is a Dominican,’ replied Seton contemptuously.

‘His knowledge about angels is lacking?’ asked Bartholomew curiously. If that were true, then there would indeed be something odd about Tomas: he would know a good deal about the blood relic debate, but less about the subject in which he claimed to specialize.

Seton backed down. ‘Perhaps I spoke hastily. He has studied different texts to me, which I suppose is not surprising, considering he hails from a foreign school.’

‘Tell me what happened when you found Witney dead,’ said Michael, more interested in the victim than in an irrelevant visiting scholar’s academic skills.

‘I was out-looking for Tomas, actually. He can often be found in St Andrew’s Church at this time of day, and I was hoping to talk to him.’

‘Why did you want to do that?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘You have just implied you consider his intellect inferior.’

Seton regarded him as though he were lacking in wits himself. ‘Of course he is inferior! He is a foreigner-not even from a civilized country like France or Spain-and a Dominican into the bargain. But I wanted to ask whether he knew where I might find a copy of Grosseteste’s De dotibus . Although he has only been here a few days, he already knows his way around the libraries.’

‘ De dotibus is not about angels.’ Bartholomew pounced. ‘It is a short tract on the various aspects and qualities of resurrection.’

‘You are a physician, not a theologian, so do not make assumptions about matters you cannot possibly understand,’ snapped Seton, becoming nettled. ‘Of course angels relate to issues pertaining to resurrection. Besides, it is none of your affair why I want a particular book.’

‘And did you meet Tomas?’ asked Michael, raising a hand to prevent Bartholomew from responding. The point was irrelevant to Witney’s death, and he did not want to waste time on it.

‘No, and when I returned, I found Andrew and Urban in that hall, and Witney was…’ He trailed off with a shudder.

‘You were out when Witney died?’ asked Michael, to be sure.

‘Why? Did that pair claim otherwise? You can check my story, because I was seen in St Andrew’s Church by several people. I do not know their names, because I am a stranger here, but I spoke to an ink-seller and three Franciscans from the Cambridge friary. They will confirm I was out when Witney was murdered.’

‘What did Andrew and Urban say when you found them with Witney’s corpse?’ asked Bartholomew, wondering which of them was lying-and someone was, because the stories conflicted. Seton was arrogant and overbearing, Andrew was deeply convinced of his own rectitude and Urban was blindly loyal. None of them could be trusted to tell the truth.

‘They said nothing. When I saw it was Witney, I accused them of killing him-a servant must have heard us arguing and sent for you. What will you do, Brother? You cannot allow them to leave when it is clear they have committed a grave sin.’

‘They can go nowhere without my permission,’ replied Michael. ‘So, you claim Witney never attacked Andrew and made a grab for his True Cross?’

‘Of course not! Why would he do such a thing? And do not say to sell, because we are Franciscan friars, and not in the business of peddling relics. We leave that sort of thing to the Dominicans-when they do not destroy them in a frenzy of righteous bigotry, of course. But we are veering away from the point: those two Carmelites killed Witney. Urban could easily have climbed to the roof and made noises to attract Witney to the hearth. Then, when his head appeared, the stone was dropped that led to his stunning and subsequent suffocation.’

‘You said he was not the kind of man to peer up chimneys,’ Bartholomew pointed out.

Seton sighed. ‘He would have investigated odd sounds. We all would. But he was a good, pious man, who has been brutally slain, and the angels will not rest until his death is avenged. I know angels and how they think.’

‘I will not rest, either, if what you say is true,’ promised Michael, not to be outdone by celestials. ‘But why would Urban and Andrew want Witney dead? They have no motive.’

‘They do,’ countered Seton. ‘Did they not tell you? He was about to expose them as charlatans-them and their so-called True Cross.’

‘How so?’

‘By logical analysis. He listened to their story-that the relic hailed from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre after the first of the Crusades, and that it was cursed by a Mohammedan called Barzak. But there is no written evidence that our Church has ever laid claim to a supply of Holy Blood from Jerusalem-if it had, then it would have been taken to Rome or Constantinople, years before the Crusades.’